


Radiation

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-03
Updated: 2003-07-03
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: Orlando contemplates beauty.





	Radiation

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from Third Eye Blind’s _Tattoo of the Sun_ and are taken completely out of context. Story inspired by _Dialectics_ and Zarah, who is a Muse in her own right. Thanks to Cyndi for editing.
> 
> Spoilers: Hints of _Dead Poets Society_

_I can’t forget the smell_  
_Of summer trees at midnight_  
_Bending backwards to please the wind_  
_You touch the tattoo of the sun_  
\- 3EB

 

“We should have a club,” Elijah announces, interrupting whatever Dom and Billy have been going on about, and Orlando’s eyes flick to him. They are sprawled out on the floor, the couch, the faded chair in the corner with the broken springs, wherever they can find room. Just another night of trash-talking and male bonding.

“A club?” Sean, in the corner. Always ready to listen to a new idea. Eager as a puppy, with that childish exuberance Orlando has never quite been able to pull off.

“Yeah, like the Dead Poets Society.” Elijah laughs, high-pitched and open, and Orlando can’t bring himself to offer any scathing remarks that might destroy that innocent joy.

“What, the Drunken Actors Society?” Evidently Dom has no such difficulty. Which isn’t surprising, really. Dom sharpens his sarcasm the way Viggo sharpens Anduril, and he cuts sharper. Being his friend means being on your toes.

“So we all go out into the woods and practice our lines, talk about girls?” And now Billy’s involved. Which could be a blessing, because when Billy sides with Dom, the issue is decided. Unfortunately, while Billy’s common sense seems to diminish when he drinks, his enthusiasm for madcap ideas tends to double. And judging from the thickness of his brogue, he’s drunk more than enough tonight to find Elijah’s idea appealing.

Orlando remains silent, even when Elijah looks at him for support. He thinks it’s a stupid idea, personally, but staying aloof is more important right now than stating his opinion. That will only give his voice more weight later on.

“Come on,” Elijah pleads, and the expression on his face means bad news, because there’s no way that Sean can stand against it, which makes it three against two.

“All right,” Dom says unexpectedly, and Orlando loses his detachment to stare in shock at Dom, who has abruptly turned traitor. Dom grins back at him a little wickedly, and Orlando wonders if he has missed something in all of this.

“Right now?” Orlando asks, trying to keep the squeak of surprise out of his voice and substitute a little more condescension.

Dom shrugs, and Orlando wishes, not for the first time, that he knew what was going on behind those eyes. “Sure. Why not? We’re all pissed anyway. No time like the present.”

“Carpe diem!” Elijah crows, scrambling rather ungracefully off of the couch. Orlando closes his eyes and wishes himself elsewhere. His moment of hope is broken by a hand on his knee.

Dom’s eyes are dancing, and his smile is as crooked as his teeth. “Come on, then. Wouldn’t want to get left behind.”

 

 

He could have stayed on the couch for a while longer, as it turns out, because the search for a flashlight takes much longer than it should, due to the fact that the flat’s residents are smashed and the rest of them don’t know where to look. Orlando tries not to appear as if he were skulking about hoping that this idea would be abandoned, but the glimmer in Dom’s eyes when he hands Orlando the flashlight and gestures for him to lead the way tells him that he has been unsuccessful.

“Bloody stupid idea,” he grumbles, but misses Dom’s reply as Elijah stumbles into him, excited and radiating alcohol-fueled energy.

“I know where we can go,” he says eagerly, and Orlando wonders uncharitably how long he has been planning this, waiting for the right moment.

‘Great,’ Orlando almost replies, but he’s still a little sharp, and he knows better than this. Elijah’s the youngest, the one most likely to withdraw in order to protect himself when the others lash out. And as disgruntled as Orlando is about being dragged out into the woods in the middle of the night when they have an early call the next morning, it’s not worth hurting one of his friends.

It’s hot outside, testimony to the reversed seasons in the southern hemisphere, and Orlando shrugs out of his long-sleeved shirt, enjoying the feel of the air on his bared arms. There’s no wind, not even a breeze, and the forest is eerily quiet as they traipse through it. Orlando shivers when he looks at the trees, silent and watchful, and doesn’t know why he suddenly feels insignificant and small. He catches Dom looking at him and shrugs, throwing off the feeling and inhaling to breathe in the night.

The forest smells different at night than it does during the day. He’s never been out here this late without a full camera crew and spotlights banishing the darkness. He thinks that Viggo may have, he’s always doing crazy things like that, and sometimes Orlando allows himself to be swept along. Not lately, though. This is the craziest thing he’s done in quite a while.

“Here,” Elijah announces, and Sean laughs while Billy crawls into the shelter provided by large rocks and tree roots, settling himself with a smile. Orlando places a hand on the tree trunk, awed by how old it must be to have grown this big. He slides his palm over one of the boulders, surprisingly smooth to the touch and cold without the sun to warm its weathered surface.

Elijah is smiling at him, sharing a secret, and Orlando gives in and smiles back. The others have found places to rest, Sean looking nervous but pretending not to be bothered by the lack of sterilization and the likely presence of creep-crawlies, probably fearing Dom’s razor-edged tongue. Billy and Dom have brought a bottle of something with them and are tucked in between the tree roots, snickering over some private joke.

Orlando slides down the side of the largest rock, feeling the unexpected rough surface of the rock drag at his T-shirt, tugging the fabric up above the waistband of his jeans. He can feel the chill of the stone against a bared sliver of his skin, but doesn’t have a chance to move before Elijah settles between his legs, warmer than the night air, counterpoint to the stone against his back radiating cold from the inside out. Elijah looks up at him, quick and direct, eyes asking ‘Is this all right?’ as he leans back against Orlando’s chest. Orlando smiles again and drapes an arm over Elijah’s stomach, presses his nose into Elijah’s softly spiked hair, the faint spice of Elijah’s shampoo mingling with the earthy tang of the midnight woods.

The other three are laughing about something, but Orlando has tuned them out. Gradually, the stress that has been building over the past week or so leaks away, the muscles in his body relaxing one by one in tiny increments until he feels content; sleepy and boneless. His eyes are half-closed, his thumb rubbing circles into Elijah’s eggshell-sharp hipbone. The night is still and quiet, and he realizes that this is the most peaceful he’s felt in weeks. A few feet away beneath the tree, Billy grins and shoots off some smart comment that brings an impassioned response from Dom, and Orlando smiles and lets his eyes slide close, drifting into the sounds of crickets and laughter and the mixed scent of spice and earth.

 

 

They really are beautiful. Orlando hasn’t really thought about it before, but it’s true. Elijah’s is obvious, pale skin and high cheekbones, slight body betraying him still as more of an adolescent child than an adult. But there is beauty in the others as well; Sean’s flushed cheerfulness and chubby-cheeked innocence, Billy’s animation and gorgeous smile, sparkling green eyes that dance with mirth and life. Dom isn’t exactly beautiful, but Orlando hasn’t figured out what precisely he is. He’s spent the last half-hour or so contemplating it. Dom is too rough around the edges to be called beautiful, too full of mischief and cynicism for innocence. Impish, perhaps. Puckish.

Dom catches Orlando watching him, gives him a half-smirk and turns back to the conversation. Orlando doesn’t look away, keeps observing and considering, watching the shadow of stubble on Dom’s tan skin, the cleft in his chin, the feral quality of his eyes and the crease in his brow when he focuses on something. Not beautiful, but mesmerizing. Dom’s face is open and relaxed now, sharing another grin with Billy as he accepts the near-empty bottle. So unlike other times, when Orlando has seen him scowling like a thundercloud, sarcastic and stinging. A mystery.

Elijah shifts and Orlando winces as a shoulder blade digs into his ribcage. Elijah reminds him of a young bird, awkward and fragile but with the promise of becoming something breathtaking. Orlando would be willing to bet that he bruises easily in some fascinating places; catches himself wondering what Elijah’s skin looks like touched with blue and deep purple, ringed with yellow and green; drags his eyes back up to see Dom watching him. Then Billy says something, accented a little too heavily for Orlando to catch while he’s half-asleep and intoxicated, and Dom whips around to grin wickedly at his best friend, their heads so close together that their noses are nearly touching.

Sean suddenly clambers to his feet, announcing the need to relieve himself, and wanders out of the circle that they and nature have created. Billy follows, supposedly to keep Sean from getting lost but probably to give him a good scare, and Orlando’s eyes are closed again, his cheek tickled by strands of Elijah’s mussed hair. A sharp crack makes him open his eyes again, and he sees Dom staring at him consideringly, snapping a fallen stick into pieces and casting them away carelessly. Dom smiles lopsidedly and drags his fingers across the ground in search of another stick, his fingers smudged with dirt.

Elijah stirs a little, and Orlando realizes that he must have fallen asleep. As if he is reading Orlando’s mind, Dom’s gaze drops to Elijah and he smiles, that warm goofy smile that Orlando has only seen a half-dozen times. He seems almost approachable now, and Orlando wonders how many more sides there are to Dominic Monaghan, how deep the layers go.

Dom slides out from under the tree, scooting over to Orlando’s side, and Orlando looks at him enquiringly. Dom just shakes his head, holds a finger to his lips and points at Elijah. Orlando’s lips part anyway, even though he hasn’t thought of anything to say, and he is taken completely by surprise when Dom’s mouth touches his, presses gently. Orlando doesn’t think about the way Dom smells as they kiss, or the temperature of his lips, or how he might taste; he separates this moment from the rest of the night.

When they part, Dom shrugs. “I just wanted to do that,” he whispers, voice dropped low in his register. “I thought it might answer your question.”

“What question?” Orlando asks, suddenly distracted by Dom’s lips and acutely mindful of Elijah sleeping against his chest.

“The question that’s been in your eyes every time you’ve looked at me tonight.” Dom’s own eyes are full of questions, but Orlando doesn’t know the answers.

He blinks, shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know what you are,” he whispers in return, hardly aware of what he is saying. All of a sudden there seem to be more possibilities in that wicked smile, those crooked teeth.

“Stop trying to figure it out,” Dom advises, and sits back on his heels in the dirt. His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and something faintly dangerous glitters in them. Orlando watches as if hypnotized.

“You’re trouble,” he says finally, resigning himself to the fact that he doesn’t care and this just might be worth it.

“So are you,” Dom shoots back, and Orlando grins with him, acknowledging it. Dom leans forward conspiratorially, and Orlando finds himself holding his breath. “I hear you have a tattoo.”

Orlando laughs then, breathy and hopefully not loud enough to disturb Elijah, because he isn’t ready for Dom to back off just yet. “Tattoo of the sun,” he answers, a hint of challenge in his voice and his eyes as Dom appraises him. “Be careful, you might get burned.”

The crinkles reappear, and Dom leans in the rest of the way to close the distance, the heat of his body radiating against Orlando’s skin where Elijah hasn’t warmed it, lips brushing centimeters apart. “I’ll take that chance.”

Dom is sharp-edged and aggressive and sexy; and Orlando thinks that sometimes he doesn’t really want beauty anyway.


End file.
